


starlight

by dreamults



Series: the moon & the stars [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Na Jaemin-centric, Team as Family, ghost!jaemin, ot18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamults/pseuds/dreamults
Summary: the truth in it all is that na jaemin- the boy who loves watching the sun disappear under the horizon, the boy who loves watching the moon touch the sky, the boy who loves stargazing and constellations and everything that comes with it- doesn’t exist.





	starlight

**Author's Note:**

> kinda sorta connected to [starry night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547030) but can be read as a stand-alone

when jaemin was younger, he used to think that ferris wheels and carousels were the best things on earth. he loved the thrill of watching the pretty lights under the dark of the night, loved how soft music would play in the background of midnight conversations and faint giggling. he loved how ferris wheels would bring him so close to the sky that he could almost touch the clouds and he loved how carousels guided him around the moonlight, the tickle of wind grazing his hair lightly.

 

now, jaemin thinks, he much prefers watching the stars. 

 

it's midnight, and he's on the roof of their dorm building. normally, he'd be at sm, because the company building holds the best view of seoul in the night- but he'd been sent home after a rigorous dance rehearsal and the thought of walking all the way back to the company  _alone_  makes his legs weak and his stomach repulse. so, he'd settled for the dorm roof, body flat on the ground as he traced the constellations with the tip of his fingers.

 

the breeze hums around him as he closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of late night coffee from the nearby café mixed with the distant smell of the cherry blossoms that had began to bloom earlier in the month. 

 

it's hard, he thinks, because the kid called na jaemin loves watching the stars and counting the constellations. he loves watching the clouds dance over the moon, and loves when the wind creates a symphony that muffles the harsh rush of traffic below. he loves walking around the perimeter of the roof, humming songs and dancing along to his own voice, as if he'd stopped time to create a moment of peace for himself.

 

but na jaemin just doesn't have enough time to be na jaemin, and the stars seem to dim in the eyes of one who loves them more than anything.

 

* * *

 

the truth is, jaemin's inexplicably lonely. and the stars are his only solace in a world that isn't always so kind to offer it.

 

* * *

 

when jaemin wakes up one morning, it's to a bright light that seeps through his vision. the sky bleeds into a thousand shades of pink and orange, signalling the dawn of a new day as the sun touches the sky. it's early, almost half six, but jaemin feels more refreshed than he's ever been before.

 

the dorm smells of brewing coffee when he enters it, noting the soft hum that floats around the room. there's taeyong, in the kitchen, humming as he continues with breakfast. and there's yuta, half-asleep on the couch with a snoring jisung tucked into his chest. sicheng is in front of the tv, tiredly stretching his arms as renjun warms his throat up quietly on the carpet beside him. johnny is sluggishly walking out of his room when jaemin makes his way to his own, jaehyun still buried under a multitude of blankets. 

 

when jaemin enters his room, he chuckles at the sight of the rest of the dreamies, snuggled under a pile of duvets and pillows in the middle of his room. chenle has his head on jeno's stomach and donghyuck has an arm slung around mark's waist. it's brings a fond smile to his lips as he snaps a few photos and tucks chenle's arm under a blanket, to which the younger whines and pulls jaemin into the pile. he's shocked for a few seconds, but then donghyuck swings his leg over jaemin's and pulls him closer and jaemin thinks that he can let their intrusion into his room slide just this once.

 

later, when taeyong calls for breakfast, their home is alive and bright and they're all chatting amongst themselves happily. the sunlight radiates through the windows and a soft, warm feeling hits jaemin, a feeling of comfort and peace and  _family_.

 

* * *

 

jaemin lives to perform. it's all he's ever known- the stage, the crowd, the practices. he lives to dance, to sing, to rap- to see himself in the mirrors of the practice room, making mistakes and correcting them, falling and getting back up again, succeeding and aiming higher.

 

so, as he sits on the windowsill of the dance practice room, watching the dreamies rehearse, a sharp pain fills his chest. they're practicing my first and last, going over the steps until it's embroidered into their minds. the music resounds through the room, bouncing off the walls and muffling the sounds of deep breathing and heavy footsteps. the managers are in the corner of the room, paying no mind to the boy leaning against the cool glass of the windows, sadly staring at the dancers.

 

"one more time," mark rasps, catching his breath as he pats chenle on the back, "one more time and then we can go back to the dorms."

 

there's an answer of groans and pants coming from the other five, who look about ready to collapse and jaemin thinks-  _wishes_ , he could be complaining too, because it meant that he had done something, achieved something. but, he keeps it to himself, huffing as he swings his legs. he knows the moves, he thinks, he's practiced it before, in the comfort of the isolating four walls of his bedroom. but the song was made for six, not seven, and jaemin would rather not be the cause of more late night practices.

 

the music begins again, a melody they know all too well replacing the suffocating warmth of the room. they go over the steps again and again, mark’s _one more time_ getting lost in the whirlwind of repeats.

 

when the song finally ends and the dreamies file out, it hits jaemin that he hasn't moved a single inch since practice began.

 

* * *

 

jaemin thinks, maybe- _just maybe_ , things would’ve been different if _that_ day never happened.

 

* * *

 

it’s nearing christmas now, jaemin thinks as he leans his chin onto his palms, staring at the roads from his place on the roof.

 

it’s getting cold, people are bundled up in layers and layers of clothing, hats, bonnets and scarves. the company has decorations all over the place, fairy lights hung up at the entrance and faux presents wrapped up underneath the huge christmas tree in the reception.

 

everyone’s gone home for the holidays- their first real chance to return home since predebut. the elders had sent off the younger ones earlier that morning before leaving soon after.

 

jaemin himself had sat on his bed the entire time, sitting on the edge with his arms wrapped around his folded legs, chin resting on his knees. he’d watched as chenle and jeno ran in and out of his room, collecting belongings and strewn clothes, watched as yukhei and kun chased each other down the corridor, watched as jaehyun tidied up all the mess that was made.

 

watched as taeyong stopped outside of his door with a look of loss, sadness, _guilt_ , in his eyes.

 

three- almost four, hours later, and the dorm was silent.

 

jaemin hums to himself as he walks through the dorm, stealing the lone bottle of banana milk from the back of the fridge before making his way to the roof. nobody ever drinks banana milk in the dorm (maybe it’s because taeyong is so against buying it), so it’s always rare to find more than one bottle in the fridge.

 

he stays on the roof for hours, watching as the sun sinks and the moon rises. the streets become more vacant as the sky begins painting itself black.

 

jaemin thinks about home- about his mum and dad, his dog and his friends. he thinks about his old school and his classmates and teachers. he thinks about the telescope that lay in his old bedroom, unused and collecting dust. he thinks about returning home, about running out of the dorms and getting a ride to his home only a few hours away.

 

but he can’t, and he won’t.

 

his breath shakes slightly, tears welling up as he cups his cheeks with his sweater paws.

 

a star falls and jaemin wishes for another chance.

 

* * *

 

 jaemin spends christmas alone.

 

* * *

 

it’s around the mid-january when their company unveils nct 2018, with the addition of jungwoo, kun and yukhei.

 

it’s a rush of overwhelming emotions, congrats to the finally-debuting members, preparations for their comeback, recordings for their songs, filmings for their yearbooks, nctmentary, music videos.

 

and jaemin sits back to watch it all.

 

he participates whenever and wherever he can, joining the others in vlives and posting as much as he can. he joins the others in photoshoots and always photobombs their selfies. but barely anyone awaits his comeback. nobody talks about him, asks about him or even notices him. when he pushes himself in front of the camera in vlives, nobody in the comments greets him. when he posts selfies on their twitter, there are no replies or likes or retweets. 

 

it’s like he's a ghost.

 

* * *

  

the truth in it all is that na jaemin- the boy who loves watching the sun disappear under the horizon, the boy who loves watching the moon touch the sky, the boy who loves stargazing and constellations and everything that comes with it- doesn’t exist.

 

* * *

  

when jaemin wakes up one morning, his name is all over the news.

 

na jaemin, the boy who died to save another.

  

na jaemin, the boy who jumped in front of a speeding truck to rescue a wandering child.

 

na jaemin, the boy who trained for three years before his death in january 2014.

 

na jaemin, the boy who was supposed to debut with nct but never did.

  

na jaemin, sm entertainment’s lost trainee.

  

* * *

 

“na jaemin was, at the time of his death, sm entertainment’s youngest trainee. he auditioned at ten years old and became a trainee alongside nct’s lee taeyong, ten, jung yoonoh and nakamoto yuta. na jaemin trained for three years before taking a break from training due to a herniated disc in his back. on the ninth of january, two-thousand and fourteen, jaemin was on the way back to the sm entertainment company building after a physical therapy session. due to the return of exo from a music show schedule, the entrance of sm entertainment was crowded with fans, and subsequently, jaemin went to a local convenience store. news reports state that eye witnesses had seen a young child walk out into traffic and jaemin had pushed this child out of the way of a speeding truck. paramedics say he died upon impact. nobody knew about na jaemin as he was an unannounced trainee but some say that this incident was the reason why nct’s debut was pushed back.”

 

* * *

 

“taeyong-ah, they know.”

 

* * *

 

johnny is furious.

 

that's the first thing jaemin notes when he enters the dorm.

 

johnny is pacing the living room, phone pressed against his ear as he speaks. taeil and jaehyun sit on the couch, heads in their hands as doyoung curls up into a ball beside them. sicheng and taeyong are on the floor in front of the coffee table, the younger has his arms around the taeyong's shoulders as the elder buries his head into sicheng's neck. yuta is in the kitchen, staring dejectedly at the full glass of water in front of him, ten playing with the straw of his drink opposite him. kun, jungwoo and yukhei are leaning against the walls of the living room, watching johnny as he curses at his phone, throwing it aside as he runs a hand through his hair.

 

the dreamies are nowhere to be seen.

 

"jaemin doesn't deserve this," taeyong mutters against sicheng's neck, "jaemin doesn't deserve any of this- this is- fucking- sick, hyung. this is sick."

 

"taeyong-ah," johnny trails off, eyes softening as the younger stands up, wiping away the tears that burn his cheeks.

 

"all jaemin wanted to do-" taeyong starts, "-was to perform, hyung. all he wanted to fucking do was train and debut and sing and rap and dance and have people know his name. hyung, all he wanted to do was give people good music and send out good messages. he wanted to perform in stadiums, wanted to perform alongside our sunbaes, wanted to win awards and travel the world. all he wanted to fucking do-"

 

"-was live."

 

jaemin clenches his fists, staring at the elder as he cries. _hyung_ , he wants to say, _it's okay_. but watching taeyong- the brother he'd stuck by since he was ten years old, the brother who gave him advice and helped him improve, the brother who he'd wished to debut with and sing alongside, the brother who was the one to identify his bleeding body at the hospital that day- break down tugged at his heartstrings.

 

his mouth goes numb and something gets caught in his throat as he watches taeyong spin around, roughly wiping his eyes as he staggers towards the door- and- 

 

straight through jaemin.

 

there's a few moments of stunned silence, jaemin clutching his right shoulder- the one taeyong had walked through. his eyes are wide and his mouth is gaping but he doesn't know why. he'd known he wasn't real from the very moment he woke up in the hospital, staring at his own face- his bloody, broken face, in the hospital bed. he'd known he was a ghost- unseeable, untouchable, since his funeral. the one where he'd sat by his coffin, trying to get his hyungs to _please please notice me i'm right here don't cry please please._

 

so why does it hurt so much?

 

jaemin's breath hitches in his throat as he watches johnny sigh, running a hand through his hair and following the path taeyong had taken. jaemin brings a hand to his mouth when the elder walks straight through him too, and watches as the others disperse to their own rooms until he's completely alone, staring wide-eyed at the carpet below him.

 

jaemin brings his arms up to wrap around his chest, a sob escaping his lips, and he squeezes his eyes shut. he's alone, so, so alone, and it hurts more than it should because, hell, he's been alone for four whole years.

 

he should be used to it by now, but he isn't and he never will be. because, no matter what, he'll always, always miss the soft pats on his back and the gentle ruffle of his hair and the playful pinches to his cheeks. he'll always miss getting ice-cream with jaehyun and sicheng and cooking with taeyong and kun. he'll miss getting milkshakes with johnny and having long talks with taeil. he'll miss messing around with yukhei and jungwoo and staying up until the early hours of the morning to listen to doyoung practice his mcing with the stuffed toys he keeps in his room. he'll miss playing around with yuta, annoying ten by buying more fruit than needed.

 

he'll miss everything- and it hurts so, so bad.

 

he squeezes his arms tightly, falling to his knees as he sobs. his heart beats against his chest, lungs constricted under the heavy weight of his ribs. he cries as loud as he can, almost screaming and cursing at the earth- wondering what he ever did to deserve this. he cries until his cheeks burn, until he has no tears left to cry. his nose is runny, and his eyes are swollen and red-rimmed but he couldn't care less.

 

because, who's ever gonna see him anyway?

  

* * *

  

"jaemin?"

 

* * *

 

on one particularly bad day, almost two weeks after his name spread all throughout south korea, jaemin finds himself standing in the middle of the dorm, hands angrily pulling at his hair.

 

"stop crying!" he screams, frustrated. "i'm- i'm right here!"

 

but no-one hears him. 

 

taeyong is sobbing into his hands, having had too much to drink after a successful day of promoting. jaehyun is in front of him, caressing his head before pulling the elder into a tight hug, his own tears falling down his cheeks. yuta is standing next to them, clenching his fists tightly as johnny pats his back. doyoung, jungwoo and jeno are in one corner of the room, clutching onto each other. ten and taeil are trying to usher chenle and jisung back into their rooms, and kun is trying to keep renjun and donghyuck from getting any closer to those in the centre. mark and yukhei are seated on the couch, and sicheng is sprawled out on the floor in front of them.

 

"stop- stop crying," jaemin's words get caught in his throat, "please."

 

he runs forward, reaching out to the four in the middle but his hands slip through them again and again. but he keeps trying, trying to wipe away the tears in their eyes, trying to caress their cheeks and assure them that it's okay. but he can't, _he can't_ , and never has he ever felt so helpless.

 

"please," he cries, falling to his knees before them, "i don't like to see you cry, you know that, hyung. you know that!"

 

he reaches up, trying to grab the sleeve of taeyong's hoodie and the hem of yuta's shirt. his hands slip through and he cries harder, trying time and time again to touch them, speak to them, reassure them. he's right here- and yet, he can't do anything.

 

"please."

 

he stretches his neck to look up to the elders, tears filling his eyes and spilling over his cheeks. his nose is bright red, and his cheeks are swollen.

 

"i'm right here."

 

* * *

 

it's no use, he thinks, because nobody sees the dead.

 

* * *

  

the stars don't shine that night.

 

jaemin is on the roof, face buried in his knees as he cries. 

 

the stars are hidden behind the clouds, masking away their beauty as if sensing the dark feeling that wells up in jaemin's stomach. the moon is hidden too, covered in a mass of grey fluff, hiding from the world.

 

jaemin hates it.

 

* * *

 

the next day, the older nct members decide to introduce the dreamies to na jaemin.

 

* * *

 

they're at the columbarium only a few days later, standing in front of the niche that has 'na jaemin' engraved in it.

 

there's a bouquet of flowers too, cherry blossoms. his favourite. and there's a few pictures of him framed in the niche, behind the glass. the first one he sees is the last picture he took at school before becoming a trainee, a picture with his old classmates that promised to support him whenever he debuted (a deep, overwhelming feeling of guilt wells up in jaemin's stomach). the next is a picture of him with his family, bright-eyed and grinning from ear to ear. his mother is glowing, and his father- he'd never looked so happy before (and jaemin would never see him as happy again).

 

the last one was- is- jaemin's most prized possession. a framed photo of him, alongside the eleven other trainees that practically raised him.

 

it's a messy photo, taken on the night of his eleventh birthday. they'd taken the photo on the roof, after eating so much fried chicken and cake that their stomach's hurt. jaemin remembers that day clearly.

 

it was the first birthday he'd spent without his parents and he's been feeling homesick for a while. the day had started out as normal, they practiced, had lessons and studied, but when night fell, the others had seemed to disappear.

 

jaemin remembers walking into an empty dorm, finding a small note on the fridge that told him to go up to the roof.

 

the roof- god, it was amazing.

 

the stars were shining brighter than ever, almost as bright as the fairly lights that were decorated alongside the edge of the roof ("all thanks to me," yuta had said boastfully, wrapping an arm around jaemin's shoulder, "those idiots didn't even know how to switch them on."). there was a huge mountain of food in the centre, stacked upon a table that also had fairly lights wrapped around it's legs. beside it lay a huddle of beanbags, blankets and pillows and jaemin's eyes had widened at it all.

 

he'd  _almost_ cried.

 

they'd eaten so much they could barely move, all opting to lay across the spread out blankets to stare at the sky as soft music played through doyoung's phone.

 

"hyung, let's make a promise." jaemin had whispered, rubbing at his belly and snuggling closer into taeyong's chest.

 

"what kind?" taeyong asked, propping his head up onto his palm.

 

"promise we'll stay together? even if we debut in different groups or go down different paths, promise we'll always be together?"

 

taeyong had merely smiled at that, ruffling jaemin's hair and squeezing his cheeks. "of course, nana."

 

"we'll stay together forever." yuta had said lazily from his other side, already drifting off to sleep.

 

"forever."

 

* * *

 

_this is na jaemin._

 

* * *

 

jaemin had known the dream members before they even became dream members.

 

he remembers mark, joining the company only a few months after his death. and he remembers donghyuck joining much later, followed by jeno and jisung. renjun and chenle had arrived later, closer to debut, after travelling from their home country, china.

 

when they joined, jaemin was elated. he'd hoped that their arrival could help the older trainees move on- stop mourning, because _hyung, you know i hate it when you're sad right?_ and, for a while, it helped.

 

doyoung and jungwoo found comfort in the fourteen year old lee jeno, who was only a few months older than jaemin himself. his eyes would turn into crescents when he smiled and that reminded the older members of the moon and the stars. taeyong, johnny and jaehyun found comfort in the form of mark lee, the multi-talented prodigy, and the chine-line found peace in the new additions, huang renjun and zhong chenle. donghyuck and jisung were the people who brought peace to the others, the small, talented little kids with so much passion and innocence.

  

for a few months, everyone was happy. everyone was smiling and glowing and radiating happiness and finally, jaemin felt at peace.

 

but, then one day, jisung had stumbled upon the small storage room at the end of the corridor of their dorms. he'd been playing hide-and-seek with chenle, donghyuck, kun and yukhei, when he accidentally locked himself in the small room.

 

at first, he'd been confused. because there was a bed and a tv and even an electric pad. the closet was filled with a multitude of clothes and stuffed toys and there was a bedside table, a lamp and- and a phone? this room was a bedroom, not a storage room like he'd been told, so why was no-one living here?

 

he'd been reaching out for the phone on the bedside table when jaemin entered. a surge of nostalgia had filled his body as he looked at his old room, neater than he had left it all those months ago (taeyong must've cleaned it out).

 

"oh?" jisung had muttered to himself, "is this taeyong-hyung's phone? hmm, it's kinda old."

 

"jisung-ah!"

 

jisung's head snapped up, dropping the phone onto the carpeted floor. kun, who was at the door with yukhei, gasped loudly, reaching out to pick up the phone quickly. "jisung-ah," yukhei started, "how did you get in here?"

 

"the door was unlocked- hyung, whose room is this?" 

 

kun and yukhei shared a nervous glance, "no-one's, jisung. it's a storage room."

 

and jisung had pouted cutely, puffing his cheeks out- reminding jaemin of how young the maknae actually was. "hyung-" he whined, "don't lie."

 

"we're not lying, sungie, it really is a storage room. it- it used to be someone else's but they, they left a while back."

 

"oh?" jisung cocked his head to the side as kun quickly ushered them all out of the room, closing the door behind him. "then why don't we use it?"

 

"no more questions, sung. come on, we're late for practice."

 

and jisung had eventually forgotten about it. but yukhei and kun were haunted with memories of a soft, small boy peeping his head out from under his covers, black locks hiding his eyes from the sunlight that filtered into his room. they'd hesitantly asked taeyong if they could send jaemin's stuff back to his family- as a way of gaining closure, and, despite being adamant about keeping the memories of jaemin in the dorm with him, taeyong had agreed and the room at the end of the corridor quickly became a spare bedroom for the dream members.

 

"sorry, nana," taeyong had whispered in the empty room once everything had been cleared out. "we couldn't stay together."

 

* * *

 

_i think you guys would've been the best of friends._

 

* * *

 

it's a week later and jaemin is standing alone in the columbarium, late, late into the night. his fingers lightly trace the glass of his niche, staring longingly at the picture of him at the centre, one that had been taken by his mother on the day he found out he passed his audition. his hands move to trace the plaque of his name, lit up by the candles that burn around him.

 

a small crunch of leaves breaks him out of his trance, hands falling to his sides as he turns.

 

his eyes widen as mark walks towards him- or rather, his niche- with a small bouquet of cherry blossom flowers clutched in his hands. the elder is dressed in black jeans and a black shirt, a black mask tucked under his chin. 

 

jaemin watches as mark places the bouquet in its holder, replacing the dying one in its place. "hi, jaemin-ah," he begins, voice quiet and low, "it's, um, mark. mark-hyung, i guess. i brought cherry blossoms; jungwoo-hyung said they were your favourite." it's quiet for a moment before mark begins to talk again. "we- we didn't know each other, but, for the past week, the hyungs, and yukhei, have been telling me and the kids a lot about you."

 

jaemin breathes in sharply.

 

"they said-" he stops, as if the words are lodged in his throat, "they told me about the times you would complain about getting up for practice or the times you would forget to do homework or skip school." he chuckles. "they told me about how you always tried to sneak stray animals into the dorm because they were cold and it was warm inside. they told me about all the silly nicknames you used to give them all and about all those times you nearly spent most of their money on banana milk."

 

he stops again before starting, voice wobbling. "but they also told me about the times you would go back to the small animal shelter down the road from sm, the place you did volunteer work when you got scouted. they told me that you were an amazing cook- they used to call you, what was it, 'calorie bomb'. and that you cooked for them when taeyong-hyung couldn't. they told me about how hard you worked to gain the respect of management, because you were young and not taken seriously most of the time. they told me that you were the sweetest, the kindest, the most selfless thirteen-year-old they had ever known."

 

"i'm so, so sorry jaemin." mark cries quietly, clenching his fists. "i'm sorry i didn't know about you sooner and i'm sorry about all the times i wished to leave. i'm sorry that someone like you- someone so hardworking and warm-hearted and gentle- ended up, ended up like this."

 

jaemin collapses into a crouch, hand tightly pressed against his mouth to repress the sob that might escape his throat. tears rapidly run down his cheeks, highlighted by the shine of the stars. 

 

"thank you," he whispers into the night, watching as mark breathes in and collects himself. "i'm sorry too."

 

mark whips his head round before he leaves, as if hearing the soft apology. but he shakes his head and turns again, disappearing into the fog of the night.

 

under the glare of the moon, jaemin's breathes in shakily, hand fading in and out of view. 

 

* * *

 

the next day, it's renjun, jeno and donghyuck.

 

it's early in the morning and all three of them arrive just as the sun makes clear of the horizon. renjun acts first, relighting the candle that had burnt out in the night. jeno follows, fixing the flowers that lay limply in their holder. donghyuck stays quiet, biting his lip nervously as he fidgets.

 

"hey jaemin-ah," renjun starts, finding it tough to figure out what to say. "we're sorry we never visited earlier."

 

"you've probably been watching us from up there, right? do you know who we are? if- if you were here today, we could've been friends." jeno cracks a smile, eyes forming crescents above his cheeks. "we could've even bullied mark-hyung together."

 

donghyuck speaks next, voice hoarse- as if he'd been crying. "taeil-hyung told me that we remind them of you. i asked him if it was because we're same-age friends but he said that it wasn't. he said that renjun reminds them of your pure, responsible yet hot-headed side. jeno reminds them of your soft, peaceful side. and i remind them of the talent and passion you once had."

 

renjun clasps donghyuck's hand tightly in his own, and jeno squeezes his shoulder in reassurance.  

 

jaemin bites his lip and glances down to his right arm, already disappearing from view. _not yet_.

 

"our zero-zero line maknae-ah, you would've been the best of all three of us."

 

* * *

  

though jaemin was expecting it, he's still surprised when chenle and jisung show up to the columbarium only a few days later. the younger of the duo holds nothing but a single cherry blossom flower in his palm, the elder holding a candle.

 

"hey jaemin-hyung," chenle whispers, brushing a few leaves off the top of the niche and placing the plastic candle on top. "manager-hyung doesn't trust us with real lighters so we brought a fake candle. i hope you don't mind."

 

"johnny-hyung told me your favourite flower was the cherry blossom so chenle and i made you this." jisung places the hand-made ornament inside the niche, next to the picture of the twelve trainees, before closing the glass. "we hope you like it. chenle got clay on the carpet and i may, or may not, have spilt paint on sicheng-hyung's bed."

 

jaemin chuckles and watches as jisung's eyes soften, the younger pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "that's why it took us a while to visit. mark-hyung and the others visited a while ago; you were expecting us, weren't you?"

 

"kun-hyung told us you were always impatient," chenle pipes in, "they said it was because you were young. you were like jisung, they said. you were impatient and whiny and stubborn and-" he breathes in sharply, "-and you were so young and carefree and happy."

 

"we would've loved to have met you, hyung." jisung utters quietly, "i think you would've liked me the best." he says smugly, glancing at chenle for half a second before smirking slightly, "but don't tell chenle that because he'll whine about it forever."

 

chenle pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "anyway," he emphasises, "we hope to meet you one day, hyung. taeyong-hyung said you loved stargazing so let's meet there then, okay?"

 

jaemin smiles softly, wind ruffling his hair as he reaches an almost-transparent hand out. "under the stars."

 

* * *

 

it's almost a month later when taeyong suggests they go stargazing. _to celebrate,_ he had said.

 

"hyung," jeno asks, "what are we celebrating?"

 

yuta, who's busy fixing the fairy lights on the roof, smiles. "a successful end to a successful comeback, jeno-ah." he says, taking the rest of the fairy lights out of jeno's outstretched hands. "and, i guess this is a way of gaining closure. we haven't really done this since jaemin," his eyes soften, "and i guess we want to try moving on and celebrating his life instead of mourning the loss of it."

 

jeno hums, handing yuta a battery. "what was he to you, hyung?"

 

it's a curious, simple question, but it's as if it unlocks memories he'd tried so hard to suppress. memories of a young pre-teen, cuddled up into his side. memories of a child, whining for food after a long, arduous dance lesson. of a small, innocent boy who never did his homework and spent all his time in the studio, dancing and improving. of a boy who cooked for all the others and made sure everyone ate and slept well. of a boy who creeped into the dorm in the early hours of the morning with stray animals tucked into his jacket, whining _but hyung, he needs a place to stay, we can't just leave him in the cold!_ of a boy who was scared of lighting and thunder, who climbed into other people's beds at night whispering _hyung, can i sleep with you?_ in the smallest voice possible. of a soft, soft na jaemin, who spoke with such passion and love.

 

"hyung?"

 

"jaemin-ah was," he ponders, "a friend. he was the kind of kid that grew up way too fast. when taeyong was too tired to cook, jaemin-ah cooked for us. after practice, he would make sure everyone was asleep before climbing into his own bed. when he knew we had smrookie concerts coming up, he would practice non-stop, day and night. but, at the same time, jaemin was a brother. he was the little brother i never had growing up. he was the one that was more like family to me than anyone else here. when i came from japan, jaemin was the first person to come find and talk to me. i guess he knew what it felt like to feel alone and like an outcast- because the poor boy was _ten_ , and already in the entertainment business. he was basically a baby."

 

"did you," jeno shuffles, "did you love him, hyung?"

 

yuta nods quickly, flashing a bittersweet grin. "i loved him very, very much, jeno-ah." his gaze catches jeno's, finding the underlining question that floats around. "and i'll always be sad that he's gone, but i'm okay." he reaches out to ruffle jeno's hair. "i'll never get completely over losing him, but everyday with you guys helps me heal. so don't worry too much, okay? you and the kids can ask us as much as you want; we'll be fine with it, yeah? even if it hurts, we'll always be here if you want answers or help."

 

jeno nods, shoulders dropping slightly. "okay, hyung," he breathes out, "thank you- for telling us about him. even if it was painful."

 

yuta's smile widens. "of course, jeno-ah. now, come on, taeil-hyung's probably having trouble bringing all the duvet's and mattresses up on his own- you know, with his tiny body and all."

 

jeno laughs loudly, squeaking in between, before following the elder down the stairs.

 

from the other side of the roof, jaemin swings his legs over the edge, smiling tearfully as the sky bleeds in a thousand shades of red and orange. he glances down to his arm, once again fading in and out of view, turning transparent before returning.

 

"i love you too," he mutters, "yuta-hyung."

 

* * *

 

when jaemin was younger, he used to think that ferris wheels and carousels were the best things on earth.

 

now, jaemin thinks, he much prefers watching the stars. because the stars provide solace for the family he'd left behind- they bring peace and happiness to his brothers, old and new, in place of him.

 

"if you could say anything-" jaemin hears renjun say, "-anything, to him. what would you say?"

 

jaemin watches as doyoung shuffles under jeno's weight, supporting the younger's back as he moves to lean on one of the bean bags they'd moved up. "i think we'd scold him first." the others chuckle slightly. "tell him how stupid and dangerous it was to run out into traffic. jaehyun-ah will probably accidentally make him cry." he ignores jaehyun's pout, narrowly dodging the pillow that gets thrown at him. "and then, we'll thank him. he saved someone that day and he was never properly thanked for it."

 

"there's this one thing i've always wanted to tell him," sicheng pipes up, cuddling his plush into his chest, "i want to tell him how much i admire him. we weren't as close as we could've been because of the language barrier but he always tried to make the effort of learning some chinese to communicate with me. he cooked for us a lot and helped me with my korean when he could."

 

"i think i'd just end up crying," jungwoo jokes, looking down as he plays with his hands, "i miss him."

 

johnny nods, wrapping an arm around jungwoo's shoulder. "we all do- it's okay."

 

"you can't miss me if i'm right here," jaemin mutters from his place perched on the edge of the roof, knees brought up to his chest and arms wrapped around them. he shakes his head slightly, as if telling himself off. "i miss you guys too."

 

"but-" he watches as the large group laugh loudly at donghyuck, who's trying his best to get rid of the sad atmosphere, "i'm glad you're moving on." he glances at his arm, already completely gone. "you have the dreamies now."

 

he looks as taeyong, the elder smiling the widest he'd done in a while. "taeyong-hyung, i'm glad you're happy now. i hope you stay this way even when i'm really gone."

 

he chuckles slightly as renjun grabs chenle by the neck, messing the younger's hair up and eliciting a rumble of laughter loud enough to shake the roof. jeno clutches doyoung tightly, laughing so earnestly that tears roll down his cheeks. donghyuck and mark are playfully arguing, throwing pillows at each other and laughing when they hit jisung. "you'll take care of them for me, yeah? make sure they eat well and sleep well and don't overwork. they may be older but they'll need a lot of help over the next few months so, don't leave them, okay? take care of them and take care of yourselves too."

 

then, with one last glance at his family, old and new, jaemin smiles. "let's meet again one day."

 

and the last thing na jaemin hears is the sound of ongoing traffic and city whispers and a soft melody playing in the background of midnight conversations and faint giggling, refracting into a song that resounds in his ears, one of happiness and friendship and _peace._

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)


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